


A Beautiful Day For a Beautiful Neighbor

by MCRmyGeneral



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dad!Mickey, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Ian is a sassy little shit, Intimidation, LET ME STRESS THAT THERES NO ACTUAL FORCING OF ANYTHING, M/M, Mickey/Mandy BrOTP, Misunderstandings, Neighbors, Passive-aggression, Porn, Rape trigger maybe?, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sassy!Ian, Sexual Orientation, Sexual Tension, Tumblr Prompt, domestic!Mickey, no actual rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-30 14:25:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10878669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCRmyGeneral/pseuds/MCRmyGeneral
Summary: Mickey was a hundred and thirty-seven percent sure that there was nobody worthwhile in his apartment building; nobody cool or funny or cute or gay or exciting.Oh, how wrong he was.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from otp--prompts.tumblr.com  
> -Person A's porn got delivered to Person B's mailbox and they have to hand deliver it to the correct recipient.

“Good morning!”

Mickey rolled his eyes, not even looking at whichever one of his irritating apartment-mates was talking. He vaguely waved as he opened his mailbox, grabbing the bills and magazine and slamming it shut, walking away without acknowledging the person any further. 

He really kind of hated his apartment. Everyone there was super friendly and they were always inviting him to potlucks and block parties and ‘out for a drink’ after work. Who the fuck wants to go out drinking after work? When Mickey finally got off work, all he wanted to do was shower and go to bed, not socialize with people in a crowded bar. He gave them a little credit though; they kept trying, even after a year of Mickey blowing them off time and time again.

He threw the door shut behind him and tossed his keys on the counter, shuffling through the letters in his hand. Phone bill, dentist bill, Publisher’s Clearing House, an offer for a pre-approved credit card. A whole lot of crap. He was about to just toss them on his counter until he noticed the Planet Fitness emblem in the corner of one letter. That was definitely not his. He read the name on the envelope.

“Gallagher? The fuck?”

 _Apartment 3_.

Mickey rolled his eyes. If the mailman couldn't tell a 3 from an 8, he needed to fucking retire already.

Curious, Mickey looked at the other two items; a feedback survey from Edible Arrangements (gay) and a coupon from Yankee Candle Company (gay **er** ). He read the name again, just to confirm that he hadn't accidentally snaked a chick’s mail, but he was 99% sure that Ian Gallagher was not a chick.

He flipped the magazine at the back of the stack over, and his eyes went wide. He instinctively clutched it to his chest so that nobody could see. Then he remembered he was in his own empty apartment, and he scoffed at himself. A second look at the cover had his cheeks blazing red.

_Badpuppy_. Mickey couldn't help it; a chuckle escaped his lips. He didn't have to open it to know it was a fag mag; the two guys with their dicks out on the cover gave it away.

“Shit,” He laughed, tossing the rest of the mail on his kitchen counter, but holding onto the magazine. So someone in his building was into dudes, enough to waste the money on a magazine subscription when PornHub was free. He thought back on every guy he'd seen in the halls, trying to remember if any were particularly cute. Then he rolled his eyes.

 _Probably some half-greyed old queen with a fetish for bodybuilders_. That would explain the bear mags and the gym membership. Mickey shook his head. _Fat chance_ , he thought to himself. Another gay guy, in his building, moderately attractive, that would have a thing for 5’7” ex-felons with a 9th grade education? He wasn't that lucky. 

His hopes fell, and he nearly flinched. When had they gotten up? He didn't need a boyfriend right now, anyway. He was working 14-hour shifts five days a week at the garage, went out to either the bars or dinner with Mandy at least three times a week, had dinner once a week with Svetlana and his son, and his son stayed with him every weekend. He didn't have time for anything more serious than the one-night stands he brought home from the bar every once in a while. 

But still, he found himself frowning as he separated his mail from his neighbor’s. But his sadness was broken by a knock at the door. 

Mickey was smiling before he even had his hand on the doorknob. After he had come out to her, he and Mandy had gotten incredibly close, and when he moved out from under their father's tyrannical reign, it wasn't even a question that he was bringing Mandy with. She had since gotten her own place with some friends, but they still saw each other multiple times a week. Mandy was easily Mickey's best friend. 

“Hey, loser,” She said with a smile, pulling him in for a tight hug. Mickey rolled his eyes, but hugged her back. She followed him into the apartment, grabbing a beer from the fridge and sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. 

Mickey grabbed his own and sat on the edge of the sofa. “How's work? That asshole still comin’ back?” 

Mandy rolled her eyes. “No, I haven't seen him all week. And I've also made a bill less than I usually do,” She threw at him. 

Mickey shrugged. “If you're trying to make me feel bad, you're wasting your time. Fucker had to learn to keep his hands off the bartenders.” 

“You didn't have to break his nose.” 

“He's lucky that's all I fuckin’ broke,” He said threateningly, and though Mandy tried to stare daggers at him, she smiled. 

“Well, Krystal and Janie said thank you.” 

Mickey blushed, gulping down his beer to hide it. “Tell ‘em no problem. Let me know if anyone else gets too handsy. It's been too long and I'm outta practice,” He said reluctantly, twisting his sore wrist. 

“What did Iggy say?” 

“Sprain, most likely. I'll be fine.” 

“Get a gym membership. Or take a boxing class.” 

“Fuck off,” Mickey rolled his eyes. “I don't have the time or patience for that. I'll stick with fucking up the low lives of Chicago in my spare time.” 

“Gotta find ‘em first.” 

“Shouldn't be too hard. All I gotta do is hang out at the club for twenty minutes; I'll find ‘em. Just think of me as the Batman of cocktail sluts.” 

Mandy smirked, trying not to laugh. “What do we want to eat?” 

Mickey pursed his lips. “Tacos?” 

“Deal,” Mandy nodded, “Change your shirt and we’ll go.” 

“Why do I gotta change my shirt?” 

“You're covered in motor oil, you slob!” 

“Oh, forgive me if my job isn't as glamorous as pushing cocktails in six-inch heels and getting my ass pinched a hundred times a night. Some of us have to actually work for a living because we weren't blessed with tits.” 

“I'm hungry!” Mandy whined, and Mickey relented, stomping into his bathroom to toss his dirty shirt into the hamper and wash his face. 

Mandy flipped through the abandoned mail on the counter as she waited, smirking when she saw the magazine. 

“Ordering skin mags now?” She called to her brother. 

“The fuck are you talking about?” He asked, walking back through the living room on his way to grab a clean shirt. He stopped when he saw Mandy flipping through the porno mag. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

“Shouldn't leave your porn out when you've got people over, Mick. It's distasteful,” she teased, not looking up from the pages. 

Mickey rolled his eyes and snatched the magazine from her hands. “It's not fuckin’ mine.” 

“Sure it's not.” 

“Yeah?” Mickey continued, grabbing the rest of his neighbor’s mail, “You think the Planet Fitness and the Yankee Candle shit’s mine, too? It's my fuckin’ neighbor’s. Got tossed into my mailbox by mistake,” He explained. 

Mandy read the name on the front cover. “Ian Gallagher. Think he's any relation to Frank Gallagher?” 

Mickey shuddered. “If he is, then I'm moving out. I don't wanna live anywhere near the spawn of that piece of trash,” He snarled, moving to toss the magazine and the letters into the garbage can. 

“You're just gonna throw them away?” 

Mickey stopped. “Why wouldn't I?” 

“Why not just give them back?” She asked with a shrug. “I know how great you are with meeting new people,” She teased, “But what's the harm? He might be cute.” 

Mickey grimaced. He didn't remember seeing any cute guys in his building before. 

“Besides, I'm pretty sure just throwing it away would be tampering with the mail, and that's a federal offense.” 

Mickey groaned and stepped away from the garbage can. He threw the envelopes on the coffee table as he walked to his bedroom. “You're a pain in the ass, you know that?” 

Mandy just smiled gleefully. 

**** 

_You're an idiot_ , Mickey scolded himself as he walked down the hall to his apartment. He had been looking over his shoulder, eyes flickering back to the door marked with a 3 over and over again. He desperately hoped that this Ian person would come out for any reason so Mickey could see what he was getting himself into, but the door stayed closed, which didn't surprise him. It was after midnight. He sighed as he entered his own apartment. 

Mickey kept the lights off as he tossed the keys on the counter and collapsed onto the couch. He'd had a few too many cervezas and his head was kind of spinning. He should've asked Mandy if she wanted to go to the bar. He could really use a fuck right now. He'd gotten blown a few days ago in the alley next to the club he and Mandy had gone to, but it had been a few weeks since he'd actually gotten fucked, and he was itching for an orgasm. 

He noticed the moonlight catching something on his coffee table. The magazine. _You really gonna give that back?_ a voice in his head asked, and he shrugged. He wasn't, until Mandy spouted all that federal offense shit. It had been years since Mickey had gotten in trouble with the police, and even though he was 99% sure that the Chicago PD wasn't gonna come pounding on his door over a lost porno mag, he wasn't exactly roaring to give them an excuse to come looking for him. It's not like it was super strenuous or anything. All he had to do was knock on the dude’s door and hand him his shit. He figured he could give it back. This Ian dude might really be missing that skin mag. 

Mickey chuckled at himself. He hadn't looked through the magazine earlier; Mandy had shown up and stopped him. And yeah, it wasn't his, but if he managed to not get jizz on it, he could look through it and still give it back, and this guy would be none the wiser. He himself usually preferred videos to pictures, but hey, a cock’s a cock. 

Mickey grabbed the magazine and set it out on the couch next to him, flipping through the pages slowly. His dick woke up fast, and he bit his lip and unzipped his jeans, reminding himself one more time to not aim for the magazine. He couldn't give it back with cum stains. 

**** 

“You still have that shit?” 

“I haven't had a day off in a week, Mandy.” 

“So? It's not like you're climbing Mount Everest. All you have to do is walk down the hall.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes and stirred his pot of noodles. 

“Go give it to him now,” Mandy said, hopping off her stool. She walked over to Mickey and hip-checked him away from the stove. “I'll watch the food.” 

Mickey rubbed the back of his neck nervously. 

“Mickey,” Mandy said firmly. 

“What?” 

“Go, dammit!” She demanded, punching him in the arm. “Stop being a pussy.” 

Mickey narrowed his eyes. “I'm not a pussy.” 

“Prove it,” Mandy challenged. 

Mickey huffed and stomped out the door, grabbing the stack of mail on his coffee table on the way out. Once he was out the door, his confidence faded. He wasn't sure why this made him so nervous. It's not like it was _his_ fairy porn that someone else found. If anyone should feel awkward, it should be this guy. Mickey nodded at himself. He could do this. 

He flipped through the magazine quickly, double-checking that he didn't accidentally jizz on it the other day, and once he was satisfied, he turned toward apartment 3. 

His palms got clammy as he got closer to the seemingly ominous door, but he ignored it, pulling himself together and knocking firmly. 

He didn't hear anything for a second, so he turned away, his hopes strangely falling a little. 

“I'm coming, Lip, don't leave!” 

Mickey furrowed his eyebrow. The hell kind of name is Lip? He turned back around just as the door was thrown open. 

“You're early,” The guy said with a smile, that smile falling as soon as he realized that Mickey was obviously not the person he was expecting. 

But this guy was a whole lot more than Mickey was expecting. He was taller, and that put his chiseled chest right in Mickey’s line of sight. He flushed when he saw the bare chest beyond the door, droplets of water clinging to the pale skin. He'd obviously just gotten out of the shower. Mickey managed to tear his eyes from this guy's _seriously_ sexy body to look up at his face. _Shit_ , He thought. The guy was hot as fuck, probably Mickey's age with grey-green eyes, full lips and bright red hair sticking to his forehead and dripping down his face. Mickey couldn't help it: he slid his eyes over the guy’s body once more, all the way down to where his jeans sat beneath those sharp hip bones, barely managing to keep from whistling. He was sure he'd never seen this kid in the hallways before. 

“Uh, can I help you?” The guy asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Mickey blushed and shook his head to knock his sense into place. _Way to just eye-fuck your neighbor, Mick. Smooth._

“Yeah, I'm Mickey, I live down in apartment 8. 

Why did he mention his name and apartment number? All he had to do was give this guy his mail; he was making this a lot harder than it needed to be. 

But the kid smiled, and Mickey mirrored it. Jesus, he was fuckin’ cute, with a baby face and a sweet smile. _You stop that_ , he chastised himself. 

“Yeah, I think I've seen you around the halls. I'm Ian,” The guy said, offering his hand. Mickey shook it firmly. “What can I do for you?” 

_Sit on my face_ , Mickey thought, then bit his tongue. 

“I think I got some of your mail,” He said, holding up the stack of letters. “Mailman must've mixed up 3 and 8.” 

Ian's jaw set angrily. “Fuck the mailman,” He spat with a roll of his eyes, and Mickey's eyes widened. That was unexpected. Ian saw Mickey's expression and chuckled. “I'm not an asshole, I promise. He started it.” 

Mickey chuckled, surprised at how easy it was to talk to this guy. He offered him his mail. “Well, here you go. I'll see ya,” He turned and called over his shoulder, wanting to get away from the tantalizing half-naked redhead. 

Ian frowned and looked down at the stack of mail in his hand. The first thing he saw was the Badpuppy magazine, and his eyes widened. “ _Fuck_ ,” He swore. “Hey, wait!” He called, tossing everything but the magazine on his coffee table and running after Mickey, barefoot and shirtless. 

Mickey turned and grimaced. Why was this guy gonna make this more awkward than it had to be? 

“I'm not really into this kind of thing,” He explained, holding up the magazine. 

“You might not wanna wave that around in the middle of the hall,” Mickey advised, and Ian chuckled, shoving it behind his back. “And besides, it's not really my business.” 

“Yeah, but…” Ian sighed. “The mailman’s seen my brother Lip leaving my apartment really early in the morning a couple times, and he always gives us really shitty looks. So I order the magazine to fuck with him. Homophobe’s gotta deliver dick magazines once a month and I get the satisfaction of knowing it disgusts him.” 

Mickey couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face if he tried. “That's the most beautifully passive-aggressive thing I've ever heard,” He laughed. 

Ian smiled, too. “Thanks.” 

It took a second for Mickey to really think through what Ian had said. His face fell when he realized that Ian had prefaced the conversation with ‘I'm not really into this kind of thing’. Meaning guys. A sadness crept through Mickey's chest but he smiled through it. 

“Yeah, well I gotta go; my sister’s waiting in my apartment, probably rummaging through my shit,” He said with a smile. 

Ian smiled back. “Yeah, my brother's on his way. I should put on a shirt,” He chuckled. 

_Please don't,_ Mickey thought. 

“But it was really nice meeting you, regardless of the circumstances. I haven't seen you at any of the building get-togethers. I thought you might've been avoiding me.” 

Mickey smiled. “Nah. Just antisocial.” 

“Right. Well, I'll see you around. Maybe I can get you out of that shell,” He said with a smirk that probably wasn't intended to be as sexy as it was. 

Mickey's chest inflated. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Ian was flirting with him. _He just said he wasn't into guys; stop getting your hopes up._

Yeah,” Mickey said with an involuntary smile back. The kid’s smile was infectious; Mickey couldn't help but smile back. 

Ian looked at Mickey for another second before turning back toward his door. 

A cloud settled over Mickey once Ian walked away. He shuffled back to his apartment, frowning. 

Mandy smirked when he walked in. “How'd it go?” 

“Terrible,” Mickey pouted, “He's gorgeous.” 

Mandy’s brow furrowed. “And the problem is?” 

“He's straight,” Mickey explained, taking the spoon from Mandy and stirring the sauce that was simmering. 

“Then why is he getting gay porn?” 

“To fuck with the homophobic mailman,” He said with a smirk. 

Mandy laughed. “My kind of guy. Was he nice at least?” 

“Yeah. Really nice. And like, stupid pretty with a body like a Greek statue. He answered the door shirtless. Shirtless!” Mickey pouted, filling two bowls with spaghetti and sliding one across the counter to Mandy. 

“You can still be his friend,” Mandy said with a shrug. “I mean, you won't be able to put his dick in your mouth, but at least you can hang out with him.” 

“I suppose,” Mickey sighed, sitting down on his couch and turning on the television. Mandy smiled softly and joined him. 

**** 

“You didn't get my porn again, did you?” 

Mickey looked up from the stack of letters in his hand, smiling instinctively at the redhead that was suddenly standing next to him. He shuffled through the envelopes. “No dicks this time. We're clear.” 

Ian threw his head back and laughed, and Mickey licked his lips as his eyes traced the tendons in Ian's neck. 

“Sorry about that again. I didn't mean to traumatize you.” 

Mickey smirked. “If a couple of erections scared me, I would've offed myself when I was twelve.” 

Ian chuckled again. 

“So what do you do?” 

“I work at a garage.” 

“Like a mechanic? Working on cars?” 

“I prefer motorcycles, but yeah, I work on cars, too.” 

Ian's eyes lit up, like he thought it was the coolest job anyone could have, which was way off. Mickey came home sore and covered in grease and smelling like exhaust every night, but the pay was good and he liked the satisfaction of being able to build something new from spare parts. Plus, it was about as good as he could do with a rap sheet that read like a Dickens novel. 

“That's awesome.” 

Mickey shrugged humbly. “What about you? I don't think I've ever seen you around.” 

“I have a weird work schedule. Mostly overnights.” 

“What, are you a stripper?” Mickey joked, but he saw the way Ian's eyes glossed over for just a second before he smiled. 

“Heh. No, I'm an EMT.” 

“EMT?” Mickey asked in awe. 

“Emergency Medical Technician,” Ian explained, “Like an entry-level paramedic.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes. “I know what an EMT is, I'm not an idiot.” 

Ian blushed. 

“That's really awesome, man. You just look a little young for something so serious.” 

Ian shrugged. “I'm almost 20. You?” 

“I just turned 22 a few weeks ago.” 

“Happy birthday,” Ian said with another flirty smile, “We’ll have to have a beer together someday.” 

“And contribute to the corruption of youth?” Mickey joked, and Ian laughed. 

“You're funny, Mickey,” Ian said, and Mickey's chest got tight when his name slipped from those full lips. 

“I’ve got my good days. Well, I'll see you around, Ian.” 

Ian's eyes sparkled when Mickey said his name. “See ya,” He waved. 

Mickey walked back to his apartment with a smile. 

**** 

“God is testing me,” Mickey groaned when Mandy jumped onto his bed, shaking it like a boat on the water. 

“How so?” 

“Ian. It feels like he's flirting with me, but that's not possible if he's straight and I'm dyin’ here!” 

Mandy rolled her eyes. “So ask him.” 

“That's not something I can just ask him.” 

“I'll do it, then,” Mandy said simply, launching herself off the bed. 

Mickey had grabbed her in a second, pulling her back. “No, you won't! It's none of your business and it's certainly none of mine.” 

“If you won't let me ask him if he's gay, then you can't bitch about not knowing if he's flirting with you.” 

Mickey pursed his lips. His sister had a good point, and it killed him to admit that. 

“Mandy, can you please, _for once_ , not be obnoxious? Please?” 

Mandy frowned and crossed her arms. If there was one thing she loved, it was meddling in her brother’s business, particularly his love life. 

“Fine,” she sighed. “I'll leave you to silently pine over Not-Gay Gay Porn Guy.” 

Mickey narrowed his eyes, but accepted it. He figured it was the best he was gonna get. 

**** 

When Mickey walked up to the mailboxes a week later, Ian was already there, opening his mailbox with a smirk. 

“We keep meeting like this,” He teased. 

“I'm starting to think you're stalking me,” Mickey threw back playfully, “Just watching out your peephole waiting for me to get home from work.” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

Mickey smiled and shook his head. 

Ian took a step closer. “So would yo-” 

He stopped short when the door opened and the mailman walked in, scowling in Ian's direction. Ian just leaned against the wall and watched him through his eyelashes. 

The mailman shoved letters in a few boxes, then turned to Mickey. 

“Milkovich, apartment 8?” 

“Yeah. 

The guy silently dug through his bag, grabbing two envelopes and handing them over to Mickey. 

“Anything for Gallagher?” Ian asked. “I'm expecting an important letter.” 

The guy’s eyes narrowed, and Mickey cocked an eyebrow. 

He dug through his bag, pulling out two letters and another Badpuppy magazine. The look he gave Ian was one of pure disgust and it made Mickey's blood boil. 

Ian rolled his eyes and reached out for the mail, but before he could grab them, the mailman dropped them on the ground. 

“Oops,” He deadpanned. 

Ian scoffed and Mickey's jaw dropped. 

The mailman turned away with a smirk. Ian started to bend down to pick his mail up, but Mickey stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Don't,” He hissed, and Ian stood back up. 

Mickey stomped over to the door, cutting the guy off before he could walk out of the hall. 

“Excuse you.” 

“Pick ‘em up,” Mickey demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Over the guy’s shoulder, he saw Ian's eyes go wide in surprise for a moment, and then something crossed his face. It looked like arousal, but Mickey pushed it out of his mind. At least for now. 

“He's got arms.” 

The guy moved to step around Mickey, but Mickey blocked him again. “I said, pick, them, up. You _don't_ want to piss me off,” He warned. 

Fear flashed through the man’s eyes, and Mickey smiled in grisly glee. 

He turned and walked back over to Ian, reluctantly picking up the letters on the ground and holding them out to him. 

Ian flashed a smile to Mickey and snatched them from the guy's hands. 

He turned around and walked away. 

“Faggot,” he muttered under his breath as he passed Mickey. Mickey saw Ian's face harden at the slur. 

“Are you fuckin’-” Mickey cut himself off as he shoulder-checked the guy into the wall, his head bouncing off the drywall with a heavy thump. He braced his arm across his collarbone, pinning him in place. The guy's eyes widened in fear, and Mickey leaned in. 

“Listen to me, you piece of shit,” Mickey growled venomously, “It doesn't matter who he fucks. He's a goddamn person and you have no justification for being such a fucking prick. So you're gonna be respectful from now on or I swear to god, I will break every bone in your body. Try me if you think I'm kidding. I hear of one more dirty look or shitty comment thrown his way, and I will follow you home, beat you to a pulp, and leave you in a bloody mess in your fuckin’ driveway. Are we clear?” 

“Y-y-yes. We're clear.” 

“Good. Apologize.” 

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” The guy said to Ian, his voice shaking. 

Ian just stood there, jaw dropped and staring at Mickey in amazement. 

“Get the hell outta here,” Mickey instructed, releasing him and shoving him out the door. 

Ian laughed as he watched the guy skitter away. 

Mickey smiled smugly, turning back toward Ian. 

“Mickey, that was the single greatest thing I've ever seen!” Ian laughed, and Mickey blushed. 

“I mean it. You're amazing! Thank you.” 

“No problem. Seriously, though, let me know if he keeps giving you shit. It's been a while since I got to beat up on someone, and I kinda miss it. I guess you can take the thug out of the South Side but you can't take the South side out of the thug.” 

Ian's eyes lit up. “You're South Side?” 

“Born and raised.” 

“Me, too. North Wallace.” 

“Shit,” Mickey chuckled, remembering the street Ian mentioned. “You _are_ Frank’s offspring.” 

Ian groaned and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, that asshole’s name is gonna haunt me no matter where I go. I'm not even his kid.” 

Mickey cocked an eyebrow. 

“My mom fucked one of his brothers.” 

“Hell of a family tree, eh?” Mickey said with a smile. 

Ian laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Listen, I gotta go to work, but if you're free tonight, wanna get a drink?” 

Mickey smiled. “Sure. When do you get off?” 

“Around ten, provided nobody dies.” 

Mickey furrowed his brow, and Ian laughed. 

“I'm kidding for the most part. I'll see you later,” He smiled sinfully, walking back to his apartment. He shot Mickey a lust-filled look over his shoulder that had his dick waking up. 

That was _definitely_ laced with arousal. But Ian was straight. 

Wasn't he? 

**** 

“Gotta cancel our date tonight, Mands.” 

Mandy gasped, the sound more shrill than she intended through the phone’s speaker. “Cancel? How dare you? What could you possibly be doing that's more important than your beloved sister?” 

Mickey smiled as he spoke. “I'm getting drinks with Ian.” 

“Not-Gay Gay Porn Guy?” Mandy asked, her voice dripping with intrigue. 

Mickey chuckled. “Yeah.” 

“Ooh, this is a break in the case.” 

“We’re just getting a drink; we’re not renting a motel room.” 

“Sure. Well, have fun, I guess. Don't do anything I'd do.” 

Mickey laughed and hung up, tossing his phone on the couch and walking into his bathroom to shower. He hadn't been this excited about anything in a long time. He knew it was stupid to get his hopes up like this, but he couldn't help it. Ian was something special. 

**** 

“So we probably went to the same school, huh?” 

“Not likely,” Mickey said with a lopsided smile. 

Ian cocked an eyebrow. 

“I spent a lot of time in juvie as a kid. I think the last actual grade I completed was my Freshman year,” He admitted reluctantly. He wasn't particularly proud of his educational record, but Ian was easy to talk to, and so far, not judgemental. He was actually smiling. 

“I made it halfway through my Junior year before I dropped out.” 

“Why? You seem like a school kind of guy.” 

Ian gulped down the rest of his beer. “I left to join the Army.” 

“The Army?” Mickey asked with a chuckle. An image of Ian standing at attention in his fatigues flashed in Mickey's mind, and his mouth started watering. “Your Junior year? Gotta be 18.” 

Ian licked his bottom lip, which didn't help Mickey's salivating. “Yeah, I figured a way around that.”

Mickey cocked an eyebrow, intrigued. “How, exactly?” 

“Got a fake ID. My picture, my brother’s birthday.” 

“Yeah? What had you runnin’ away? What was so important that you couldn't wait another year?” 

Ian smiled behind his new beer. “Relationship issues. I was sleeping with my married boss. Married with two kids.” 

Mickey couldn't help it; he chuckled and Ian smiled at him. “Home wrecker.” 

Ian laughed and shoved Mickey playfully. “Oh, like you were never young and dumb?” 

“Well, I got married when I was 18.” 

“Runaway marriage?” Ian guessed, a small smile on his lips. 

Mickey shook his head. “Shotgun. Knocked her up,” He grimaced. He had only slept with Svetlana because Terry had invited a bunch of the hookers he knew over to celebrate Mickey's 18th birthday, and he knew he'd have to sleep with at least one that night. And of course, with Mickey's luck, he picked the one that was ovulating. 

“That's rough.” 

Mickey shrugged. “Not so bad. Turns out she's a lesbian. So we split up about a year after the kid was born.” 

“You get to see him?” Ian asked softly, not sure how sensitive the subject was. 

“I do. I get him every weekend, and we all go to dinner as a family once a week. It's actually pretty great. Svet’s a hellcat, but she's a great mother. She makes a better friend than wife. And Yevgeny is almost four now,” Mickey face lit up as he spoke about his son, “He's so smart, already reading and writing. He understands things that I couldn't when I was his age. He was an accident and I resented Svetlana for a long time, but looking back, I'm glad he came out of the marriage. Nice to have a legacy, you know?” 

Ian nodded with a smile. 

“And I'm making sure that he's not gonna grow up like I did; fighting and drinking and afraid to be himself. I'm not gonna wreck him like my dad wrecked me. He's gonna have a better life than I did. And if I make sure of that, then I think I've succeeded as a parent, right?” 

Ian's smile grew. “Yeah.” 

A silence fell between the two, and Mickey busied himself with finishing his beer. “Way to dump out your purse in the middle of the bar, Milkovich,” he muttered to himself, and Ian laughed. 

“Hey, it's cool. I come from the same shitty streets as you; I know what it's like there. Plus, with an asshole like Frank as my father, I don't really have room to judge your home life,” Ian rolled his eyes. 

“I guess you're right. Frank is a legendary piece of shit if there ever was one. What about your mom? She around?” 

Mickey didn't miss the way Ian stiffened in his seat. He set his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I didn't-” 

“Monica split. Been gone most of my life. She’ll pop back up from time to time, just long enough for her and Frank to dump another kid on us and then she'll leave again.” 

“Another kid?” 

“There's six of us Gallaghers now. My older sister started raising us when she was just 15.” 

“Jesus. Guess your family’s nothin’ _but_ assholes, huh?” 

“Frank’s an asshole,” Ian corrected, “Monica’s an unmedicated bipolar.” 

“Bipolar?” Mickey asked. 

Ian swallowed half his beer in one gulp and sighed. “Bipolar is a psychiatric illness, also called Manic-Depressive disorder. It is associated with episodes of mood swings ranging from depressive lows to manic highs and causes unusual shifts in mood, energy, activity levels, and the ability to carry out day-to-day tasks,” he recited, like he was reading from a medical textbook. 

“Shit.” 

“Yep,” Ian nodded. 

“Why doesn't she take meds?” 

Ian shrugged. “She rejected her diagnosis. She's convinced she's not bipolar.” 

“That's probably real safe.” 

Ian smirked. 

“You seem to know a lot about it,” Mickey noted, hoping to shift the attention to a more light-hearted subject. “Get that from EMT training?” 

Ian laughed sarcastically. “Nope. Got it from my own diagnosis.” 

Mickey furrowed his brow, until Ian's words clicked in his head, and Ian saw the exact moment they had. 

“Don't worry, I'm not my mother. I'm medicated. Fuckin’ disease isn't all bad. Kept me from doin’ time.” 

Mickey flinched. “Wait, what?” He asked, his eyes wide. 

Ian laughed. “I tried to hotwire a helicopter when I was in the Army. Kind of tipped it. Blades snapped, motor caught fire. Didn't wanna get in trouble, so I ran, went AWOL. When the MPs caught up to me, we convinced them that I did it all during a manic episode.” 

Mickey couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up in his throat. “You are officially the coolest person I have ever met. You make my life look normal.” 

Ian chuckled, choosing not to be offended by Mickey's words. He knew how he'd meant them. 

“Another beer?” Mickey asked, motioning to Ian's two empty glasses. 

Ian hissed. “I really shouldn't. You're not supposed to drink on lithium.” 

"Makes your blood fuckin’ toxic, doesn't it?” 

Ian cocked an eyebrow at Mickey, who smiled proudly. “Guess some of that 8th grade Health class stuck.” 

Ian laughed, smiling at Mickey and running his eyes over those full lips. “Fuck it,” He said. “One more. What could it hurt?” 

**** 

“And then he woke up in Canada!” Ian cackled. 

Mickey shook his head at Ian, telling him the story of how his sister’s boyfriend had smuggled their father into Canada because he'd broken Ian's nose when he was fifteen. 

“How did he get him to Canada?” 

“He was passed out drunk, so Steve just shoved him into his trunk.” 

“I wanna buy this Steve guy a beer,” Mickey said with a laugh. He held the door open for Ian, who smiled at him. 

“Thanks.” 

The boys both stopped in the hall, neither one sure of where to go from here. 

“Thanks for inviting me out. I had fun.” 

Ian smiled sinfully, and it made Mickey's dick stiffen in his Levi’s. “I had fun, too. We’ll have to go out again soon.” 

“Definitely. Well, I'll see you,” Mickey said with a wave, turning toward his apartment, feeling kind of sad that the night was ending. 

But Ian had other plans. He grabbed Mickey's arm and pulled him back, crashing his lips against Mickey's roughly. 

_Oh, thank God_ , Mickey thought as his hands roamed over Ian's chest and snaked into his hair. 

Ian moaned into Mickey's mouth and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him back until they crashed through his front door. Ian threw the door closed behind them and led them through the apartment. 

He clawed at Mickey's shirt, ripping it off and tossing it to the floor. 

“Fuck,” Mickey whispered as Ian stepped away to pull off his own shirt. When Ian rejoined him, Mickey took the opportunity to run his hands over every inch of that ridiculous body, hard lines of abs and hip bones quivering under his fingers. 

Ian leaned down to suck bruises into Mickey's neck as he worked at his belt and unzipped his fly. Mickey rolled his hips against Ian's own, moaning at the friction that was too intense and not enough, all at the same time. 

Suddenly they were in Ian's bedroom, and Ian had shoved Mickey down onto his bed, leaning over him and kissing him hotly, the taste of beer and Marlboros sitting on both their tongues. 

Ian had moved his lips, trailing them down Mickey's chest and stomach as he kneeled between his legs. Mickey gasped at the warm tongue licking at his abdomen and plunged one hand into Ian's red locks, the other grasping at the sheets beneath him. 

Ian smiled against Mickey's skin, pulling his jeans and boxers down to his knees and smiling up at the boy through his lashes when his cock sprung free. He didn't waste any time, sucking him into his mouth and sinking down until his nose was pressed against warm skin and Mickey's dick was brushing the back of his throat. Mickey leaned up on his elbows, eyes blown wide as he watched his dick disappear into Ian's mouth over and over. The kid was putting on one hell of a show, hollowing his cheeks and looking up at Mickey and moaning around him. 

Mickey pulled him off his dick with a sharp tug on his hair. 

“What?” Ian panted when his mouth was free. 

“Fuck me,” Mickey demanded, and the smirk that settled on Ian's lips said that he didn't have to be told twice. 

He stood and tugged his jeans off, and Mickey did the same with his own. Ian crawled sinfully up the bed towards Mickey, stopping to place a kiss to the sticky head of his almost achingly hard cock before sliding his legs apart and kneeling between them. He leaned down to kiss Mickey as one arm reached up to root around in his bedside table. 

“You're clean, right?” Ian panted into Mickey's mouth and Mickey nodded. 

“You?” 

“Yeah. Condom?” 

Mickey shook his head. “Fuck it,” He said with a smile that Ian returned before capturing his lips in another hot kiss. 

Mickey heard the _snap_ of a cap opening, and a second later there was a cold, wet finger pushing at his ass. He relaxed, which was not easy when the hottest thing he'd ever put his lips on was draped over him, his huge hard cock pressing persistently against Mickey's thigh, and Ian's finger slid in further, which made Ian moan embarrassingly loud. He thrust his finger into Mickey a few times before adding more lube and a second finger, curling them upwards and brushing Mickey's prostate. 

Mickey gasped sharply, which made Ian freeze. 

“Does that hurt?” 

Mickey couldn't help but laugh. “No, god, do it again!” 

Ian smirked and curled his fingers against the spot a few more times before pulling them out and replacing them with the head of his cock. Mickey inhaled deeply as Ian pushed in, identical moans dripping from both boys’ lips. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey mewled when Ian's hips were nestled against his ass. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian's waist to push him in even deeper, and Ian rocked his hips. Slowly at first, then faster and harder and then he was snapping his hips and swallowing every moan that fell from Mickey's lips, biting his lip and running his tongue along Mickey's teeth. 

“Fuck, Mickey, so damn tight,” Ian muttered against his lips. “Feels so fucking good.” 

Mickey smiled at Ian's praise and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, digging his nails into the pale flesh and painting angry red streaks across his skin. 

Ian bit down on Mickey's neck, digging his teeth into the welts he'd left just moments ago. His hair fell forward, brushing Mickey's sweat-damp skin with every thrust. 

“Harder,” Mickey instructed, and Ian sat up to smirk evilly at Mickey before leaning forward again. 

He grabbed each of Mickey's wrists and pinned his arms against the bed above his head, which gave him the leverage to pound into Mickey's ass with more fervor and intensity than before. 

“Ooh, yeah, just like that,” Mickey gasped, arching his back so that Ian's chest slid against his own with every thrust. He threw his head back and clenched his jaw until Ian pressed a wet kiss to it. 

“God, fuck,” He whispered, and Ian kissed him again. 

“Louder,” Ian whispered hotly in Mickey’s ear, which sent his cock throbbing even worse than it had been before. Nobody had ever asked him to be louder in bed, but damn if he wasn't gonna do what Ian asked. 

“So fucking good, that hard dick pounding my ass. Fucking sexy, Ian, so goddamn hot. I could ride your cock all day.” 

“Jesus, Mickey,” Ian moaned, a smile on his lips and his dick hardening even more inside Mickey, if that was possible. 

“Fuck me, Ian. Want you to slam my ass till I can't walk straight and fill me with-” 

“Gonna cum,” Ian cut Mickey off with a shudder, his eyes slipping closed. He angled his hips up and slammed into Mickey, hitting his prostate with every thrust in. 

“Me, too. Fuck, Ian, touch me,” Mickey begged, and Ian obliged, releasing Mickey's wrists and wrapping a long, strong hand firmly around Mickey's cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. 

All the sensation was too much, had Mickey gasping for breath as his orgasm crept up on him. 

Ian rolled his hips once, twice and then he was shuddering. Mickey felt liquid heat filling him up and shot his own orgasm, cumming in thick white ropes over Ian's hand, some even hitting Ian's flushed chest. 

Ian took his hand from Mickey's throbbing cock and set it on the bed next to him, leaning down and kissing him softly but intensely, tongues sliding together and moans falling into each other's mouths. 

Ian pulled away after a minute, falling to the bed beside Mickey and panting. Mickey watched his chest heave like he couldn't catch his breath, which sounded pretty accurate. 

“Christ,” Ian gasped, “Fuck, that was amazing.” 

Mickey nodded, also panting. “Haven't been fucked like that in a while,” He admitted with a smile. Ian chuckled and leaned over to kiss him once more, sweetly, before falling back to the pillow. 

Mickey listened to Ian's breathing as it evened out, and after a moment, he heard Ian snoring softly, which made him smile. 

Then the guilt settled in his stomach. 

Ian was straight. He'd said it right to Mickey two weeks ago. 

“ _I'm not really into this kind of thing_ ,” He'd said, talking about the gay porn Mickey had given back to him. And earlier that very night, he had let it slip that his bipolar medication got him drunk in half the time it usually would, and he was on his third beer when they'd left the bar. 

“Fuck,” Mickey swore. He should've known better, should've pushed Ian away when he kissed him. He was drunk and Mickey hadn't cared, had fucked him anyway, taken advantage of him. His stomach turned and acid rose in his throat as he carefully slid off the bed, gathering his clothes and throwing them on quickly. He shot Ian one last apologetic look before he slipped out the door and headed back to his own apartment. 

**** 

“What happened?” 

“I don't wanna talk about it,” Mickey dodged question after question as he and Mandy walked to the bar. 

Mandy groaned. “You can't blow me off to go on a date and then not tell me what happened!” 

“It wasn't a date, and I don't wanna talk about it,” Mickey snapped. 

Mandy folded her arms and frowned. “Did you make a move on him?”

Mickey tilted his eyes to the ground, and Mandy's jaw dropped. 

“You _did_? Mickey!” She chastised, pushing him firmly. 

“He started it! _He_ kissed _me_ first and the next thing I knew, we were in his bed grinding against each other like horny teens at prom.” 

“Did you fuck?” 

“Yeah,” Mickey frowned, and Mandy smirked. 

“Turning the straight boy gay for a night. Isn't that the ultimate challenge?” 

Mickey sighed and Mandy narrowed her eyes. 

“Okay, what's up? You should be grinning with pride for landing a straight boy. What, was he really bad? Did he blow his load too soon?" 

Mickey frowned. “He was drunk, Mands.” 

Mandy's face fell. “Oh,” She said softly. 

“Yeah. I'm not proud of it and I'm staying away from him because I'm sure he hates me. It's been a week and every time I see him, I turn away. He’s stopped smiling at me in the halls so anything that _was_ between us is way over.” 

Mandy frowned and wrapped an arm around Mickey's shoulders. “It'll be okay, Mick. It's not the end of the world.” 

“I really liked him, Mands. Even just as a friend and now we're gonna go back to being strangers. I haven't known him long but I already miss him.” 

“I'm sorry, Mick. But we’ll get you smashed tonight,” She said with a smile as she and Mickey walked into the bar and picked a table. “You'll feel better when you're hammered,” She reassured him. 

Mickey relented with a small smile as Mandy ordered two shots of Southern Comfort for each of them. 

“And then he woke up in Canada!” 

A chorus of laughter reverberated through the bar, and Mickey stiffened in his seat. 

“Fuck,” He swore under his breath, taking his two shots and one of Mandy's. 

“Hey, assface!” 

“Fuck off,” He threw at her, turning his head to look at the group of people all clad in blue standing at the bar. 

Ian was in the center, laughing as he told his coworkers the story of Frank being smuggled into Canada, the same one he'd told Mickey the week prior. He was laughing and looking _way_ sexier in his EMT uniform than anyone had the right to. Mickey's mouth watered as he walked his eyes up Ian's body, stopping where his pants hugged his ass and where his biceps strained his shirt sleeves. _Damn_ , he was fine. 

“What's your problem all of the sudden?” 

Mickey grimaced and nodded toward the group of EMTs. “Ian,” He explained. 

Mandy smiled. “Which one?” 

“Redhead.” 

Her eyes scanned the crowd, then widened. “You fucked _that_?” 

Mickey shrugged. “Technically, _that_ fucked me.” 

Mandy slapped his arm. “Jesus, he's gorgeous!” She swooned, and Mickey grimaced. 

“Yeah, I know. Thanks,” He deadpanned. 

Mandy frowned. “Sorry,” She said, still staring at Ian. 

“ _Mandy_ ,” Mickey hissed, and she jumped. 

“What?” 

“Stop fuckin’ staring!” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes before setting them back on the redhead that was now leaning against the bar listening to one of his coworkers talk. He chuckled and idly looked around, his eyes slipping past Mickey, then jerking back. 

The smile he'd been wearing fell instantly, and a mixture of sadness and anger filled his eyes. Mickey bit his lip and turned his eyes down to the table, sighing heavily. 

Mandy frowned and offered him her last shot without a word. Mickey swallowed it eagerly and hissed at the burn. 

“I'm not really feelin’ up to getting drunk, Mands,” He said sadly, though he was already four shots in, but Mandy understood. 

She nodded and set a hand on his shoulder. “Let's go back to your place. We’ll play Call of Duty till the sun rises.” 

Mickey smiled at his sister in admiration. She knew him better than anyone else. 

“Come on,” She said softly, pushing him gently. 

Mickey and Mandy walked out of the bar, the masochistic side of Mickey taking over, and he snuck one more look back at Ian. 

Ian's eyes were more sad than angry now, as he watched Mickey leave. 

Mickey turned away as the door closed softly, separating the boys. He sighed and linked his arm with Mandy's, and the two turned and started walking toward his apartment building. He laid his head on Mandy's shoulder, and the two walked home in silence. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from otpprompts.tumblr.com  
> -Imagine your OTP+ meeting when the fire alarm in their apartment building goes off at 3 am, and both of them are wearing next to nothing while waiting outside for firefighters to take care of the situation. Weather Bonus: they decide to share blankets for warmth and end up cuddling.

Ian jumped and smiled when he heard a knock at his door. He hopped up from his bed and sprinted to the front door, throwing it open eagerly. His face fell embarrassingly fast when he realized that it was Lip standing there.

Lip furrowed his brow. “Gee, don't look so excited to see me,” He threw at his brother.

Ian turned back toward the living room, nodding for Lip to follow. “Sorry. I was hoping it was…” He trailed off. “Never mind.”

“Hoping it was Mickey?” Lip asked with a smirk, and Ian sighed. “How long has it been?”

“Almost two weeks,” Ian answered grimly.

“Yeah? What'd you do to scare him off?”

“Slept with him.”

“You fucked him? Isn't he straight?”

“He was married and has a kid, so yeah, I'm gonna assume he's straight,” Ian snapped at his brother.

“Sor _ry_ ,” Lip said, holding up his hands. “You haven't spoken to him at all since?”

Ian grimaced and sat down on the arm of the couch. “No. I don't get it, though. He didn't seem like a homophobe. He was fine with me, even threatened that asshole mailman for me. He seemed like he liked me.”

“Well,” Lip said, walking into the kitchen and grabbing two beers. “You can't really blame him.”

“What do you mean?” Ian asked when Lip walked back into the living room, opening both beers and handing one to him.

“I mean, I get that he was cool with you being gay. But there's a big difference between being friends with a gay dude and accidentally fuckin’ a gay dude.”

“He could've pushed me away.”

“Wasn't he drunk?”

Ian frowned. Lip was so logical that it sometimes pissed him off. “So you're saying I raped him?”

Lip chuckled.

“It's not fuckin’ funny, Lip! If he _does_ feel like I took advantage of him, I wanna know!”

“Firstly,” Lip reasoned, “No, you probably don't. Because then you're gonna feel like an absolute sack of shit and you're never gonna look at yourself the same way. And secondly, I'm 99% sure that he doesn't think you raped him. He probably just needs some time to deal with it. I'd be a little fucked up if I slept with a guy, too, just like you'd be kinda weirded out if you banged a chick. Give him a little time, I'm sure he'll come around and be friends with you again.”

Ian groaned and threw himself backward onto the couch, legs dangling over the arm. “I don't want to just be friends with him. I want to kiss him and sleep in the same bed with him and learn all his favorite things and meet his family and fuck him and hold his hand and all that fluffy _bullshit_.”

Lip leaned over Ian, looking down at him with a smirk. “So, basically you wanna wife him up?”

Ian groaned again. “Not no.”

Lip's smirk grew. “So yes.”

Ian huffed out a breath through his nose and sat up.

“Can't do that if he's straight, bro,” Lip said sympathetically, sitting down next to his brother.

“I wouldn't be feeling like this if we hadn't fucked. I was dealing with wanting him just fine before, but now it's a hundred times worse.”

“I hate to point this out, Ian, but you did this to yourself.”

Ian threw daggers over his shoulder at his brother, who didn't back down.

“You were sober; you knew what you were doing. You knew he was straight.”

“I didn't think he was drunk enough to…” he trailed off. “He wasn't stumbling or slurring his words. I figured he was coherent enough to say ‘no’.”

Lip thought for a second, his lips pursed. “Maybe he was, then.”

“Huh?” Ian asked, cocking an eyebrow, and Lip shrugged.

“If he wasn't stumbling around, then maybe he wasn't _drunk_ drunk. Maybe he _wanted_ to sleep with you.”

“That doesn't make things better, Lip! If he wanted to fuck me, then why is he avoiding me now?”

Lip shrugged, clearly in over his head. “I got nothin’, bro.”

Ian leaned forward and held his head in his hands, elbows digging into his thighs. “He's driving me crazy. In a good way _and_ a bad way.”

“Sounds like you're really falling for him.”

“Great,” Ian rolled his eyes, falling back against the cushions, “Let's see how many _more_ bad decisions I can make with my sex life! Banging Kash, banging Jimmy’s dad, dancing in a strip club, shacking up with that asshole that insisted fucking a girl wasn't cheating on me,” He rattled off, counting along on his fingers. “I'm going for a goddamn record, here!”

Lip smiled. “At least you're not sleeping with your professor.”

“I'm sure I would've if I had actually gone to college.”

Lip laughed and ruffled Ian's hair. “You'll figure it out. If Mickey doesn't wanna be with you, there's other gay dudes hiding around Chicago. You'll find one you like just as much.”

“Not like Mickey,” Ian insisted, shaking his head. “He's special.”

“God, be gayer,” Lip rolled his eyes, and Ian smacked him.

****

“You’re dead, little man!”

Ian furrowed his brow and followed the sound to his window, peeking past his curtains and out into the blindingly bright snow-covered lawn. He couldn’t help the smile that popped up on his face.

Mickey was bent over in the parking lot, scooping up snow with a joyful smile on those full lips. Ian ached, wanting to kiss those lips once more. But he squashed that feeling down, instead focusing on the target of Mickey’s snowball barrage. A small kid was hiding behind Mickey’s silver car, giggling with glee. Mickey laughed and whipped a snowball at the car, and the kid howled with laughter when it exploded against the hood. Ian wasn’t sure if his aim was terrible, or if he was specifically trying not to hit the kid.

“Come on out and be a man, Yevgeny!”

Ian chuckled to himself. Yevgeny was a hell of an unusual name, but Ian remembered Mickey saying his ex-wife’s name was Svetlana, so he figured it was Russian.

“No!” The kid called, still smiling. He was younger than Liam, so probably four or five, with a mop of blonde hair, which made Ian assume that he had the same traffic-halting blue eyes that MIckey did.

He darted around the car, but Mickey was faster, catching him and falling to the ground on his back, pulling the kid with him. The boy wiggled in Mickey’s arms, but Mickey didn’t relent, and within seconds, they were both covered in snow. A beautiful red flush fell on Mickey’s cheeks.

“Truce?” He asked the kid in his arms. The kid stopped resisting and huffed.

“What’s a truce?” He asked, and Ian chuckled.

“Mutual surrender. I give up, you give up,” Mickey explained.

“No winner?”

Mickey shook his head. “No winner.”

Yev crossed his arms and pouted. “No truce!”

“Fine,” Mickey agreed, pushing him off gently and springing to his feet. “But I grew up with Uncle Iggy, Yev. We used to snowball fight for days. You’re goin’ down!” He laughed, restocking his armory and packing snowballs faster than Ian would’ve thought possible. He reared up to throw one, but a big black SUV pulled into the parking lot.

Yevgeny went to run toward it, but Mickey intercepted him and snatched him up into his arms before the boy could hit the pavement.

“No, you don’t. Parking lots are dangerous, people can’t see you if they’re in their cars. Got it?” He asked the kid, who nodded firmly. “Good,” Mickey smiled, walking over to meet the girl who got out of the car.

“Mama’s here!” Mickey said to the kid, who clapped his hands like a seal, and it had Ian and Mickey both chuckling.

The girl walked over to the boys, kissing them each on the cheek. Mickey seemed to blush when she did, which intrigued Ian.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” She asked, and even through the closed window, Ian could hear her thick accent in every word she spoke.

She was pretty, tall with dark hair and large eyes. She had to be Svetlana, Mickey's ex.

“We had a snowball fight!” Yev said proudly, and Mickey smiled.

“Oh? Did you win?”

“Kicked my ass!” Mickey said with a smile, tickling the boy.

The woman smiled warmly, and Ian mirrored her.

“Gimme a hug, little man,” Mickey said, wrapping his arms around the child and squeezing tightly. Ian felt his chest get tight watching Mickey with his son. He looked happy; his eyes were sparking and his smile was as wide as Ian had ever seen it. He wondered if he looked this damn adorable when he played with Liam.

“Dinner on Wednesday, yes?” The woman asked, gently taking the boy from Mickey's arms.

“Eight o’clock.”

“Wave bye to daddy!” She said as she went to walk away.

“Bye, daddy!” The kid screeched happily as Svetlana loaded him into his car seat.

Mickey waved back and watched the car pull out and drive away with a smile. He stuck his hands in his back pockets and walked back inside, still smiling softly.

Ian went back to where he'd been reading on the couch, but he couldn't focus on the print on the pages anymore. All he could see was that smile on Mickey's face, that gleam in his eye. He loved that kid more than anything, it was obvious. Ian felt a pang of jealousy in his chest. He wanted that with Mickey; a relationship, a life, a home. He frowned when he remembered that it would never happen, that he was lusting after a life he'd never get to live. He threw the book shut and tossed it on the coffee table, getting up to go shower.

****

Ian dragged his feet as he walked down the hall to his apartment. His shift was rough. The last call of the day was the worst; a child abuse case that had Ian almost in tears as he cleaned the girl's cuts. He saw the kid behind his eyelids when he closed them, so he tried not to. But even swollen and bruised, the girl was warm, smiling at Ian and telling him about her school and her friends. Ian left her in the hospital with a smile and a tight hug, hoping to show the girl that there were still good people in the world, regardless of what she'd been shown by her family. He made it a point to ask the woman assigned to care for the girl, Ms. Sturgess (a social worker that had worked on his own family's cases in the past), to keep him updated and let him know when they'd found a foster family for her. He briefly contemplated offering himself, but he would've been denied as a conflict of interest, since he was the first responder. But Brittany had assured him that she'd keep him up-to-date. As crushed as he was to leave the girl, he knew she was in good hands.

He hadn't even gotten his key in his door when he heard a pattering behind him. Peeking over his shoulder, he saw a blonde toddler run his way, skittering almost comically to a stop. The kid beamed a gap-toothed smile up at him. Ian smiled back, immediately recognizing those blue eyes. This had to be Mickey's kid.

“Hey,” He said, dropping to one knee.

“What's _your_ name?” The kid asked, and Ian chuckled.

“I'm Ian. You?”

“Yevgeny,” The kid answered, holding his hand out for Ian to shake. “Are you a cop?” He asked, noticing the badge on Ian's shirt. “Daddy doesn't like cops.”

Ian snickered and shook his head. “No, I'm an EMT. Like a nurse, but I go to people to help them when they can't make it to the hospital.”

“Guys can be nurses?” He asked, cocking his head like a puppy and Ian felt his heart flutter. The kid was absolutely beautiful, with sandy blonde hair and Mickey's sea-blue eyes. He spoke well, better with words at 4 than Liam still was at 6 (though a certain cocaine incident may have something to do with Liam's delayed verbal development), and he was outgoing. Ian suddenly got a flash of what Mickey was like as a kid, and he blushed.

“Of course guys can be nurses. They can also be teachers and artists, just like girls can be racecar drivers and firefighters. Anyone can be anything.”

“I wanna be an astronaut!”

“Awesome!” Ian held his hand up, and the boy slapped it enthusiastically.

“Yev?”

Ian's and Yev’s eyes both turned to where Mickey had turned the corner, eyes wide in worry. Mickey sighed and for the first time in weeks, he looked into Ian's eyes. But it didn't last long, and he turned his attention back to his kid.

“Yevgeny, you don't walk away from me, okay? When I tell you to stay where you are, you stay where you are.”

Yevgeny ducked his head. “Sorry, daddy.”

“Now, come on.”

Yev ran to Mickey's side, hugging his leg tightly in apology, and Mickey reached down to ruffle his hair.

Ian smiled softly, but Mickey frowned, and it made Ian frown, too.

“Thanks for keepin’ an eye on him,” He said almost sadly, and Ian nodded.

“He's a smart kid. Gonna be an astronaut.”

_That_ made Mickey smile. He looked down at his son. “That right? You gonna be an astronaut when you get big?”

Yevgeny nodded proudly, squealing when Mickey picked him up and threw him in the air.

“Really? You gonna go to outer space? Gonna walk on the moon? Gonna ride on a spaceship?” He asked, all the while throwing the kid around.

Ian watched the two walk away, and that familiar ache settled in his chest.

His smile faded, and he unlocked his door, his sights set on a beer and bed.

****

It was 2 am, but the laundry room was pretty secluded, so Ian didn't feel bad about doing his laundry at this time of night. Nobody had complained yet, and besides, he was projectile vomited on this afternoon, and he was _not_ just gonna let that shirt sit in his laundry hamper for two more days. So the rest of his building mates could suck it up. The washer wasn't particularly loud, anyway.

So far, his week had been uneventful. No calls at work that scarred him too badly, and he'd managed to avoid Mickey in the halls. But of course, that could only happen for so long.

When he turned the corner to go grab his clothes, he saw Mickey stumbling down the hall, arms around a skinny girl with long black hair. He paused, watching the two for just a moment.

“When did you become such a lightweight?” The girl giggled, holding the wrist around her neck firmly.

“I'm not a lightweight; you've been pouring Jim Beam down my throat since 10,” Mickey laughed.

The girl hiked her arm even more firmly around Mickey's waist, and Ian's stomach curdled. He couldn't take his eyes off her arm, and how her fingers sat on Mickey's hip, how close the two were. He supposed she was pretty, though she wasn't really his type. But she was Mickey's, apparently.

“Let's get you into bed,” She said affectionately, dipping her fingers into Mickey's pocket for his keys, and Ian grimaced. Half of him wanted to go and hip-check the girl away from him. The other half of him knew he couldn't. Mickey had obviously moved past their little fling. But Ian wasn't sure that he could.

He huffed and turned back toward his apartment, stomach twisting and chest aching. His laundry could wait.

****

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” Ian insisted for the ninth time as he opened his mailbox. “Who's picking him up? Okay, yeah. I'll see you tonight, then. Bye, Lip.”

Ian hung up the phone with a smile on his face. Carl was coming home from military school for the Christmas break, and he was actually really excited to see him. Excited and proud. Maybe his own military dreams were rubble, but Carl could follow his dreams to the military or police or SWAT team or wherever they led him. Carl was gonna do great, Ian was sure of it.

A mailbox nearby closed, and Ian looked toward the sound, not realizing that there was someone else in the hall with him. Of course, when he looked over, he saw Mickey busying himself with his mail.

Ian's breath caught in his throat. He was looking good, a sheen of sweat on his forehead and motor oil smudged on his face. Like an old fashioned grease monkey, and something stirred in Ian's stomach. Maybe he had a fetish for mechanics.

Mickey made it a point to not look up at him, but Ian noticed that he had stopped flipping through his mail.

Ian had just opened his mouth to speak when the door opened and the mailman walked in, freezing with wide eyes when he saw Ian. He'd be lying if he said that it didn't make him feel a little powerful.

“Good morning, Mr. Gallagher. Got some mail for you,” He said almost skittishly, reaching into his bag and pulling out a stack of letters.

Ian cocked an eyebrow and snatched the mail from his hand. He looked over the guy's shoulder to see Mickey looking down at the mail in his hands, but grinning wickedly. The mailman threw the rest of the mail into the boxes before nearly running out the door.

Ian chuckled as he watched the guy run away, as did Mickey. Mickey finally broke his staring contest with the envelopes in his hand, chancing a look at Ian. Both their smiles fell, and after a second, Mickey turned back away.

Ian couldn't help it. He hated this tension between them. He had to do something about this. Maybe a relationship between them was out of the question, but Ian still wanted Mickey in his life. Having him as a friend was better than nothing.

“Hey, Mickey,” Ian called after him. Mickey stopped, and Ian saw his shoulders tense. He spun slowly.

“Yeah?” He asked reluctantly.

“I think we should talk.”

Mickey shook his head vehemently. “I don't do ‘talking’.”

“Fine, then _I’ll_ talk,” Ian insisted, and Mickey sighed. “About the other night…” He trailed off.

“I'm not proud of it,” Mickey said sadly, and despite Ian's best efforts, he flinched. He got that sleeping with dudes wasn't Mickey’s thing, but he didn't expect him to be so blunt about how much it freaked him out. He shook his head and pressed on.

“Yeah, I’m really not, either. I know we've kind of been avoiding each other, but I was hoping that, I don't know, we can still be friends? Just kinda push that night out of our heads and start over, I guess? I like talking to you, and I know it sounds lame, but I guess I miss you.”

Ian would have to be blind not to see how Mickey's eyes sparkled, not to notice the smile that had curled his lips.

“I’d really like that, too.”

Ian smiled his lopsided smile, and Mickey's smile grew, too. “So… drinks tomorrow night?”

Mickey nodded. “Sure.”

Ian was sure his heart skipped a beat, but he didn't mind.

****

“I think I fixed it,” Ian said proudly, struggling to keep the smile off his face, and totally failing.

“Fixed what?” Lip asked, taking a hit off the joint that he and Ian had snuck off to share, and handing it back.

“Me and Mickey. I talked to him, and I think we’re back to being friends.”

“That really what you want? Still can’t put his dick in your mouth.”

“Yeah,” Ian shrugged, “But at least I can hang out with him. I’d rather be his friend than his drunken one-night stand.”

“I think it’s a bad idea,” Lip insisted, “I think you’re not gonna be able to keep your libido reigned in. Sooner or later, you’re gonna make a move on him again.”

Ian scoffed. “I’m not thirteen years old anymore, Lip, and my dick isn’t a divining rod. I can manage to keep it in my pants.”

“Whatever you say,” Lip said with a smirk, taking one last hit off the cashed roach and flicking it into the yard.

“You know, you’re gonna start a fire like that one day.”

“You’re right; I’m super worried about lighting the snow on fire.”

“You know what I mean, jackass,” Ian chuckled, smacking Lip in the back of the head and following him inside.

****

“So tell me more about Svetlana.”

Mickey shrugged and swallowed a mouthful of fries. “Not really much to tell. She was a friend of my father, and by friend, I mean a hooker,” Mickey smirked, and Ian choked on his Coke, barely managing to keep from spitting it all over the boy in the booth across from him, “That my father used to go to. He brought her to my 18th birthday party, I got hammered, went to bed with her and a few weeks later, she showed up on my doorstep with a positive pregnancy test. My dad insisted we get married, so we did. Spent about a year and a half making snippy remarks to each other. Then the kid was born, and,” Mickey sighed, “Things changed. She became a different person. She used to be this frigid bitch, but once the doctor handed her that baby, it was like she melted. All of the sudden, she was kissing me good-bye in the morning and we’d be sitting up at night talking about him; what we hoped he’d be like when he got older, where we wanted to send him to school, how we were gonna fix our money situation.”

Ian cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, she was still turning tricks, and I was mostly pushing guns and drugs at the time. We needed something more secure, so I started working on cars and she got a job at The Alibi.”

Ian smiled. “The Alibi Room? Dude, the owner is my sister’s best friend’s husband! Kev?”

“Jesus, small town, huh?”

Ian laughed and shoved a handful of fries into his mouth.

“Anyway, one day she let it slip that she was a lesbian and that we should divorce. Looking back, I should’ve known by the way she’d eye-bang my sister, who liked to walk around the house half-naked.”

“Yikes. She ever make a move on her?”

Mickey shook his head. “No, thank god. She’s smarter than that.”

“Are you,” Ian asked cautiously, “I mean, if she was hookin’, are you sure he’s yours?”

“Yeah,” Mickey smiled, and Ian was grateful that he didn’t take offense to it, “He’s mine. No other person he coulda gotten them eyes from.”

“Yeah, they’re beautiful,” Ian said, before biting his tongue and kicking himself in the ass. He wasn’t supposed to think like that. This whole _being friends_ thing couldn’t work if he kept slipping like that.

Thankfully, Mickey didn’t notice and kept eating. “So what about you?” He asked with a full mouth. “Tell me more about that boss of yours you were fucking.”

Ian grimaced. “The married boss with two kids that was 25 years older than me and tricked me into thinking I was in love and luring me into a fucked up relationship when I was only fifteen?”

“Damn,” Mickey said, furrowing his brow. “Just fifteen, huh?”

Ian nodded, “Yeah. I like to insist that I was old enough to make my own decisions and that I was well aware of what I was doing, but the truth is that I just _wanted_ to feel mature. I’m the middle kid, so I’ve always kinda faded into the background. Fiona’s the oldest, Lip’s a certified genius, Debbie was a hormonal teenager for years, and now she’s got her own kid, Carl’s been a criminal since he was eight, and Liam’s the baby. Debs and Carl always kinda stuck together, and Lip and Fiona are super close. I’m closest with Lip, but he gets super entitled sometimes because of how smart he is and we’ve wound up in fistfights more than once. I was kind of always overlooked, and then when that… _thing_ started, I loved it. I felt like finally, someone was giving me that attention that was always redirected towards the younger kids. I was finally someone’s main priority, and as selfish as it sounds, it felt good. I liked being the most important person for once.”

“Why’d you end it?”

“Started bangin’ someone else, even older. Another rich married person with a family. Whose son was stickin’ it in my sister.”

Mickey choked on his burger. “So you were screwing your sister’s boyfriend’s-”

“Yep!” Ian nodded, and Mickey scoffed.

“Sounds like you’ve got a thing for being a dirty little secret.”

Ian thought back to his days as a teenager, to the folder of cock porn he had hidden between the pages of Hustler. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” He said sadly, and Mickey nodded.

“I know _exactly_ what you mean. So what, jealous ex-lovers catch up to you? Is that what drove you to the Army?”

“Eh. Not really. I think I was just tired of making bad decisions.”

Mickey snorted. “So you ran away to the Army and tried to steal a helicopter?”

“Yeah,” Ian chuckled, “Marked me for life,” He said, sliding his hand across the table to show Mickey the big fat scar across his palm.

Mickey trailed his fingertips across the skin so lightly, it sent a shiver down Ian's spine. He'd seen that Mickey could do rough, and do it well, but he never would've imagined the man could be so soft, so gentle. He let his eyes slip closed for the quickest second, losing his sense in Mickey's touch. But before Mickey could notice, Ian opened his eyes back and up pulled himself together.

“How'd that happen?”

“When I tried to hotwire it. Burned myself on the starter.”

“Wow. Pretty hardcore.”

“No,” Ian sighed with a smile, “Just mentally ill.”

Mickey grimaced and opened his mouth before shutting it and taking a drink of his beer.

“What do you wanna ask me?”

“Huh?”

“Your face. You wanna ask me something, but don't want to piss me off. Say what you wanna say.”

Mickey debated for a second, but nodded. “What exactly is bipolar? And I don't want the textbook definition. What’s it like?”

Ian sighed and thought for a moment before speaking.

“Manic highs. It doesn't feel too weird for me, I just feel like I have a ton of energy. But I'm bouncing off the walls, I don't sleep, I'm talking fast, I'm reckless. I do things that are stupid or dangerous and I don't even care about what could happen. Then the depressive lows hit, and I can't even get myself out of bed. I won't eat unless someone literally forces pancakes down my throat, my entire body aches, I can barely speak, I feel like nothing has ever made me feel good, like all I know is pain and sadness and hopelessness. I feel so empty and utterly exhausted that I can't even cry even though I want to. If the depression lasts too long, I can start having suicidal thoughts, but it's never been bad enough for me to actually hurt myself.”

Mickey's face was a carefully composed mask, but Ian could see in his eyes how upset this made him.

“Then after a week or two, the depression goes away and I'm back to acting like I'm on speedballs.”

“Jesus,” Mickey said sympathetically. “Same thing your mom has, right?”

Ian nodded tersely. “She wants to think she's not bipolar, and I guess I did for a while, too. I put off going to a clinic for months, until I,” He sighed, not sure if he should share this with Mickey or not. But he trusted him, something that wasn't taken lightly. “I more or less kidnapped my little brother.”

Mickey's eyes widened.

“I just kind of… took him one day. I don't remember why, but the next thing I know, we were in Indiana and I had cops following my car. Spent three days in the psych ward, and still wouldn't take my meds after I was released. But my mom showed up when I was in military prison after my bitch of a half-sister called the MPs on me and after spending a little time with her, I realized that I didn't want to be another Monica. I didn't want to let my family down and push away everyone who cared about me and alienate myself. So I sucked it up and started taking my medication. It sucked for a while. Everything was hazy and I was nauseous and my reaction times slowed down and life felt like it was moving in slow motion. But when my body got used to the pills, it cleared away for the most part. I still have days where I wanna stop taking them. They make me sick from time to time, sometimes they'll stop working and I'll have to go back to the doctor and get my dosages adjusted, I’m really not supposed to drink, sometimes I have issues gettin’ it up,” He admitted with an embarrassed laugh, and thankfully, Mickey laughed, too, “But even with all the bad, I'm happy that I finally decided to man up and get my shit figured out. I'm not Monica.”

Mickey nodded. “To not being Monica,” He said with a smirk, raising his glass.

Ian laughed and raised his, too, smiling at Mickey.

He could get used to this.

****

Ian pounded on the door, shaking the whole thing and probably rattling the walls. He knew it was late and he was being obnoxious and regardless of how well their friendship was going, there was a good chance he'd get hit when the door opened, but none of that mattered now. He just needed him.

The door was ripped open, and Mickey stood there in a t-shirt and boxers, face more than annoyed.

“What the fuck?” He growled, then he saw Ian's tear-stained face, and his own softened into a look of concern. “Ian? Are you okay?”

Ian took a deep breath before he spoke. “I couldn't save someone,” He explained, and Mickey's lips parted. “She died right in front of me. She wanted me to tell something to her kid. I- I don't even know what language it was,” He said with a sniffle. “You're the only person I wanted to tell,” He admitted, and pride crossed Mickey's face for just a second before sadness moved back in.

“Come here,” He said softly, wrapping his arms around Ian and squeezing. Ian responded immediately, crushing his face against Mickey's chest and hugging him back just as tightly.

Mickey couldn't help it, he let his heart warm up as he held Ian. He knew the kid was just distraught, but he also knew that he wouldn't get too many more chances to hold him like this, so tears or no tears, Mickey was gonna make the best of it.

He brought Ian inside and led him to the couch, sitting him down gently. Ian hugged his knees as Mickey ran to grab him a bottle of water. He drank the bottle down in mere seconds, nodding a thank you to Mickey, who returned it and sat down next to him, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“What happened?” He asked softly. Mickey had seen people he knew, people he called friends die in the streets, either from drug or gun deals gone wrong or gunned down by police. He knew how it fucked with you, and he didn't want Ian to have to deal with it alone. It had ripped him up when he was younger; he could only imagine what it would do to someone so pure and innocent and good-hearted like Ian.

“I don't know,” Ian admitted, still breathing heavily. “It was a compound fracture and a distended abdomen. Possible pneumothorax. She was bleeding internally and we just weren't driving fast enough,” He sobbed, and Mickey scooted closer, rubbing his back gently. “I've never lost anyone before. I almost didn't know it was possible. I should've saved her.”

“Stop. There were more people than just you there. This isn't your fault. You can't be expected to save everyone, Ian.”

“I don't know if I can go back. I don't know how many more times I can watch a person die. I can't handle it.”

“I'm sorry that you had to be there, but look at it this way; for every person you lose, you save a hundred more. Think of all the good you do. It outweighs the bad.”

Ian sniffled once more and wiped his face. “Thanks, Mick.”

Ian leaned up to press a gentle kiss to Mickey's cheek before leaning down to hug him again. Mickey just smiled and let Ian wrap his arms around him.

****

“What the fuck,” Ian groaned when he heard the incessant pounding on his front door. Then he smiled. It was probably Mickey, paying him back for him waking him up the same way just a few days ago. He slid out of bed and shuffled over to the door.

“You're a fuckin’ dick!” He yelled to the other side of the door. “I said I was sorry, now let me sleep, asshole!”

The pounding didn't stop, which worried Ian.

“Mickey?” He asked, throwing the door open to find two firefighters in full gear.

“What's going on?”

“There's an issue with the carbon monoxide system. We're evacuating all residents until we can fix the problem.”

“Okay, just let me-”

“No time,” one insisted, grabbing Ian's arm and pulling him out of his apartment.

“Jesus, can I at least put some fucking clothes on? It's the dead of winter in Chicago, for fuck’s sake!”

“Get your fuckin’ hands off me!”

Ian craned his neck to see Mickey being pulled out of his own apartment, also in little to no clothing. But at least he was in boxers. Ian had stupidly decided to sleep in the glittery gold shorts he still had from the Fairytail.

Mickey was pushed once more before he swung, and Ian broke out of his own hold to run over, setting a hand on Mickey's chest before he was arrested for assaulting a first responder.

“I got him, guys,” He reassured the firemen. “Come on, Mickey,” He whispered to the man, turning him toward the door.

“Jesus,” Mickey flinched when the frigid air hit his bare skin. Ian hissed, too. “What fuckin’ time is it?”

Ian looked at his watch. “Almost one.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Mickey cursed as he wrapped his arms around himself, and Ian did the same.

The two stood in the snow, watching as more and more people were led outside, all shivering.

Ian looked over at Mickey and noticed him eyeing his shorts. Mickey looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow.

“Don't,” Ian warned him, and Mickey smirked. He opened his mouth to speak, but Ian stopped him with a glare. “ _Don’t_ ,” He repeated. Mickey stifled a giggle, but didn't say anything.

The pair stood in the snow, teeth chattering and bodies shaking.

“What is it, ten below?” Mickey snarled.

“Feels like it,” Ian answered. He caught the arm of a firefighter walking past. “Excuse me, but do you know what's going on? Someone said something about carbon monoxide alarms malfunctioning? Is everything okay? When is it gonna be fixed so we can go back inside?”

“I'm sorry. Civilians are on a need-to-know basis,” The man said before turning and walking away.

Ian pulled him back. “Emergency technician Ian Gallagher, based out of Northwestern Memorial Hospital. If there's a carbon monoxide issue, then we need to get these people oxygen tanks.”

“It's not an issue as of yet,” The man explained, “Just that the monitors are on the fritz and we need to make sure they're fixed, and in the meantime, the building needs to be evacuated. Should be up and running in less than an hour.”

Ian released him and turned back to Mickey, who was smiling.

“What?”

Mickey shrugged. “ _Technician Gallagher_ ,” He repeated, smirking. “Authoritative.”

Ian rolled his eyes, stepping closer to him.

A warm blanket was suddenly wrapped around one of Ian's shoulders, the other half around Mickey's, and Ian turned to see one of the firemen with a handful of them.

“Keep yourselves warm. Trying not to take in any hypothermia cases tonight,” He said simply before walking away.

Ian smiled apologetically at Mickey and stepped even closer, pressing himself against the smaller man and drawing the blanket around them tighter. Mickey didn't seem to mind, flinching only when Ian's cold fingers grazed his side.

“Jesus!”

“Sorry,” Ian chuckled, which earned him one hell of a glare.

“This has gotta be inhumane,” Mickey muttered.

“You'd think. I think I'd rather die from carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Mickey chuckled, which brought his face dangerously close to Ian's chest. Ian could feel his hot breath blowing over his frozen skin, and he almost sighed at the feeling. Mickey was warm-blooded, radiating heat like a furnace. It only took a few minutes for Ian to feel content, and in a few more, he was nearly sweating.

“Are you always so warm?” He asked, and Mickey looked almost startled.

“Huh?”

“It feels like you're running at 110 degrees. I'm almost too warm standing next to you.”

Mickey blushed and Ian felt him grow even warmer everywhere their bodies touched. He discreetly moved his hand, arousal surging through his whole body when he felt the sharp dip of Mickey's hip bones beneath his fingers. Mickey gasped at the touch, but it was so low Ian almost didn't hear it. He gazed down to see that Mickey's eyes were closed softly and he was gnawing on his bottom lip. Ian wanted to dart his tongue out and run it across Mickey's bitten skin.

The lawn, the people and the fire engines seemed to fade around the two, blurring into an unimportant background. All Ian could see was Mickey, and he could literally feel his heart breaking when he realized that this was as close as he could ever get to him.

Someone tapped Ian on the shoulder, and he and Mickey both jumped.

“Building’s clear,” He announced to the people standing in the snow, “You guys can all go in and warm up. Thank you for your patience.”

“Oh, thank god,” Mickey sighed, stepping away from Ian. He couldn't help it, Ian frowned when Mickey did, a frown that thankfully, Mickey didn't see.

“Come on,” Ian said once he pulled himself together. He and Mickey walked into the building and parted for their apartments. Ian had just opened his door when he heard cursing from down the hall.

“Fucking shit!”

Ian peeked his head around the corner to see Mickey yanking on the doorknob to his apartment.

“Everything okay?” He asked.

Mickey sighed and kicked the door. “No, I'm fuckin’ locked out. My sister’s got my spare key, and she's working a closing shift at the bar; she won't be done until four,” He huffed.

Ian nodded toward his own apartment. “Come on. Hang out with me till she gets off. You can't just sit in hallway in your underwear all night.”

_I’d rather you sit in my bedroom in your underwear all night,_ he thought.

Mickey rolled his eyes but followed Ian back to his apartment. He called Mandy, who teased him relentlessly for ten minutes before agreeing to bring him his spare key when she got off.

“God, I'm still freezing,” Ian said, rubbing his arms. Mickey did the same. “You want a cup of coffee or something?”

“Sure.”

Thankfully the pot from the morning was still warm, so Ian poured two cups and handed one to Mickey, who drank it down happily.

“Oh, you're my hero,” Mickey said, wrapping his hands around the warm mug.

Ian smirked and sat down, closer to Mickey than was necessary. He sometimes still had issues reigning his cock-hungry side in, and he let it slip occasionally. Thankfully, Mickey either didn't notice or didn't care.

“So,” He said, nodded towards Ian's lap, “You gonna explain the gold booty shorts, Daisy?”

Ian laughed and pushed him playfully. “Shut up. It's a long story.”

“I got time.”

“Okay, it's not a long story. It's just not my proudest memory.”

That seemed to pique Mickey's interest even more, but he backed off. “Okay. I get it.”

Ian sighed. Mickey already knew so much about him: his relationship with Kash, his fling with Ned, running away to the Army, going AWOL, being bipolar. If all that didn't scare him off, a little stripping probably wouldn't.

“It's an old work uniform.”

“A what?” Mickey asked with a laugh.

Ian bit his lip before he spoke again. “When I went AWOL, I was trying to avoid going back home. I had a point to prove. So I ended up squatting in an abandoned building for a couple months. And got a job at a strip club.”

Mickey's jaw dropped and his eyes widened comically, a smile on his face. “A strip club?” He repeated, and Ian nodded.

“I started off just bartending, and that was fine, but I wanted to be able to really help my family when I came home, so I needed more money. So I started dancing _Not_ stripping,” He clarified, and Mickey chuckled, “Just dancing. Like, lap dances and stuff. The gold shorts were, I guess, our uniforms?”

“Wow,” Mickey laughed, “You think you know a guy.”

“Shut up!”

“Hey, I got no room to talk about how to keep food on the table! My whole family used to scam and steal whatever we could get our hands on. Guns, drugs, cars, full on armed robbery. Nothing's off-limits to a Milkovich. Mandy and I are the first ones to have real jobs in three generations, which in our fucked-up family makes _us_ the weirdos.”

“I'm not really proud of my time at the Fairytail. I'm glad I got out before I got hurt.”

“Yeah, places like that can be super sketchy, especially around- Did you say the Fairytail?” Mickey cut himself off with a completely new thought.

“Yeah,” Ian answered, frowning. “Why?”

“That's a gay club.”

“And?”

Mickey scooted closer, a move that Ian didn't seem to mind. “Ian, are you gay?”

Ian scoffed. “You couldn't tell?”

Mickey laughed and shook his head. “Are you kidding? The very first conversation we ever had, you told me you weren't into-”

“Porn. I meant I'm not really into porn.”

“So your boss, your sister’s boyfriend’s parent, they were dudes?”

“Yeah. I never specified?”

“No,” Mickey said almost angrily.

“Why is it so important to you?”

“Because the only reason I've been keeping my hands off you this long is because I thought you were straight!”

“How could you think I was- huh?” Ian said, catching Mickey's words. “No way.”

Mickey blushed.

“I saw a girl bring you home the other night, talking about getting you into bed.”

“That's my sister, Mandy. She's my drinkin’ buddy.”

“But you have an ex- _wife_.”

“Why do you think we're divorced?”

“She's a lesbian, right?”

“And I like dick!” Mickey said with a laugh.

“Are you kidding me?” Ian asked sarcastically, laughter bubbling in his chest. Mickey laughed too, falling against Ian as they both held their sides.

“So we both avoided each other after we fucked because we both thought we'd taken advantage of the other,” Ian guessed. “But in reality, I've been wanting to jump you since the first time I saw you.”

Mickey’s laughter died, and he looked over at Ian. “Nothin’ stoppin’ you now, Gallagher,” He said coyly, and Ian's dick twiched, which Mickey didn't miss through the barely-there shorts.

“Are you sure?” Ian panted, leaning in closer and closer as he spoke, teasing Mickey with how close he was. “Because I won't be able to stop once I've started,” He whispered hotly.

Mickey didn't answer, he just closed the distance between the two and kissed Ian like he'd never be able to kiss him him again, rough and messy and teeth and tongue and moans slipping into each other's mouths.

Mickey pushed Ian down onto the couch and straddled him, grinding their dicks together as he sucked bruises into Ian's collarbone.

“Fuck, Mickey,” Ian panted, reaching down to squeeze his ass.

Mickey smirked against Ian's skin, kissing a line lower and lower until he was licking at the waistband of his shorts. Ian tilted his hips up so that Mickey could slide them off for him, and as soon as Ian's cock was free, Mickey's lips were sliding down it, warmth and wetness and it was all Ian could do to keep from blowing his load right then and there. He wrapped a hand in Mickey's inky hair, massaging his scalp while Mickey bobbed his head, wet noises mixing with moans and panting creating their own symphony of sex.

Ian's toes curled when Mickey dipped the tip of his tongue into his slit, licking up the precum and moaning at the taste. Ian wasn't wasting another minute. He gently pushed Mickey off and turned him around so he was kneeling on the cushion and his ass was up in the air for Ian to grab and rut against. He didn't know when Mickey's boxers came off, but he wasn't mad at it.

“Do you know how much I've wanted this?” Ian asked as he coated his fingers in lube, which was conveniently stashed in his end table. “Been dreaming about burying my dick in your ass for weeks, Mickey,” Ian purred as he worked Mickey open.

“Christ, Ian, me too. Don't know how many times I've jacked off to the memories of you pounding my ass and jerking my cock,” Mickey moaned, pushing back against Ian's fingers.

Ian figured that meant he was ready, so he lined up and draped himself over Mickey, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

“Gonna fuck this tight ass until you're nothing but a screaming mess, begging me to fill you with cum.”

Mickey gasped at Ian's words, and the feeling of his dick pressed against his loosened hole.

“God, please, Ian. Please just fuck me.”

Ian smirked and pushed in, biting his lip as he nestled his hips against Mickey's full ass. God, this was even better than he remembered. He rocked his hips a few times before making good on his promise, slamming into Mickey over and over, until Mickey wasn't even forming words anymore. He slipped his hand back into Mickey's hair, pulling his head back so he could kiss the boy, tongues sliding against each other and teeth knocking together.

“Goddamn, Ian. I could ride this cock every fucking day. Nobody's ever fucked me like you do.”

Ian smiled proudly and bit down on Mickey's earlobe. He slowed down then, drawing nearly all the way before pushing slowly back in.

“Jeeeeesus,” Mickey moaned, digging his fingernails into the back of the couch. “God, that feels so fucking good, Ian.”

“Don't know how I managed to not bend you over before now,” Ian purred, “Love fuckin’ this ass,” He punctuated his sentence by grabbing Mickey's ass and squeezing, which had Mickey bucking his hips and nearly howling.

“Fuck, I'm gonna cum. Faster, Ian, please.”

Ian moaned and did as Mickey instructed, slamming into him almost erratically. He wrapped his hand around Mickey's cock, jerking him quickly.

“Ian, Ian, Ian, _fuck_!” Mickey nearly mewled, cumming hard over Ian's hand and onto the back of the couch.

Mickey clenching around his dick was all he needed, and Ian barely had time to lean down to kiss the back of Mickey's neck before he was climaxing too, his hips stuttering against Mickey's ass.

“Holy fuck,” Ian panted, leaning his forehead between Mickey's shoulder blades.

“God, that was even better than last time. Didn't think _anything_ could get better than last time.”

Ian chuckled proudly. Mickey craned his neck to look over his shoulder, and Ian met him in a soft, sensual kiss.

“I wanna be with you,” Ian confessed when they parted, still panting and still inside Mickey's heat, “I love being around you. You make me laugh, you make me think about things, you make me happy. I've never wanted to be with someone this much before, and hell if I don't want to call you my boyfriend.”

Mickey beamed, his smile lighting up the otherwise dark room. “Can we start right now?” He said with a smile, and Ian mirrored it. The two kissed once more before Ian finally pulled out, instead pulling Mickey into his arms and kissing the top of his head.

“Let's go to bed,” He suggested, and Mickey nodded eagerly.

****

“Hello! Open up!”

Ian groaned. “The fuck?”

“Mickey?”

“Shit, that's Mandy,” Mickey said sleepily, slipping his boxers on and crawling over Ian to get off the bed. Ian threw on his own boxers and followed Mickey to the living room.

“I thought you were off at five. It's nearly seven!”

“We had a big party to clean up. Here's your stupid key,” She said, tossing a key ring to Mickey.

It was just then that she noticed what he was wearing.

“Mick… what's going on?” She asked with a cocked eyebrow.

“It's not what you think it is. Firefighters pulled me out of the apartment at one am to work on carbon monoxide bullshit and they wouldn't let me get dressed first.”

Mandy seemed content, so Ian naturally had to stir the pot. He came up behind Mickey and kissed his neck.

“But, I mean, it's also what you think it is,” He said with a smile, and Mickey couldn't help but chuckle. He held one arm out to shake Mandy's hand, the other one sliding around Mickey's waist. “Ian Gallagher. Nice to meet you.”

“Mandy Milkovich,” She said, shaking Ian's hand. “I thought he was straight?” She asked Mickey.

“No,” He explained, “He thought _I_ was straight.”

“Wha-” She cut herself off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Whatever. I'm tired. I want details after I get some sleep,” She called over her shoulder as she walked away.

“Guess I should go get ready for work, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ian nodded.

Mickey smiled softly before turning to leave, but Ian pulled him back, into a kiss that had them both gasping for breath when it was over.

“See you tonight,” Ian said when they parted, biting his lip.

Mickey silently thanked the mailman for fucking up and walked down the hall, turning to look over his shoulder at Ian.

“Starin’ at my ass?”

“Yeah,” Ian said, completely owning it, “Just wait till tonight. Gonna be doing a lot more than staring at it,” He said sinfully before closing the door.

He leaned against the door and sighed.

Man, what a night.

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests and prompts! Let me know what you'd like to see [here](http://ieroween1031.tumblr.com/ask)!


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